


Reversal

by Arkanna



Category: Xiaolin Showdown (Cartoon)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-14
Updated: 2017-09-10
Packaged: 2018-12-15 04:08:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 13,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11798064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arkanna/pseuds/Arkanna
Summary: An attack leads Jack to a revelation--there is more to being an apprentice than just learning.





	1. Discovery

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own Xiaolin Showdown or any of its characters.

Jack grumbled in frustration. He had been back to his old lair searching for a small critical piece of equipment he thought he had left behind but his quest had been fruitless. Obviously, it must be in his lab somewhere and determined another search was in order but first he would tell Chase he had returned. For some reason, the warlord had been reluctant to let him go and ordered him to report back immediately upon his arrival. It was puzzling, but then some of the things Chase demanded made little sense.

The moment Jack set foot in the citadel he knew something was off. Shanti was not at the door waiting for him, in fact he could not find any of the warriors. He listened carefully, but there were no sounds of battle, nothing obvious.

Cautiously he made his way through the halls and rooms, but it was empty, as if every living thing had simply vanished. Jack started to fidget and tremble just a little. His heart was pounding and a little voice in his head was screaming at him that this was all terribly wrong. Gripped by a sudden panic, he ran to the throne room and lurched to a stop. His eyes darted around finding nothing, but then he screamed—a loud high pitched shriek that set the teeth on edge. Chase, in dragon form, was lying next to the throne. Only the tip of his muzzle visible from Jack's point of view.

He scrambled across the room, tripping over his own feet in his haste, and crashed into the throne before falling to his knees beside Chase. His hands trembled with fear but the moment he touched the dragon, he knew that it was still alive.

“Chase?” Jack whispered, shaking the dragon very carefully, but there was no response. He tried again but was rewarded with nothing but the dragon's shallow breathing. Alarming in itself as that was not normal either.

Tentatively, Jack rolled the dragon a little and gasped. A red feathered dart protruded from the side of its neck. Biting his lips, Jack gently pulled the dart from the dragon. The tip was stained an odd color. He stared at it a moment before a sound intruded on his thoughts.

The room was suddenly filled with warriors, pacing and growling angrily. Jack whimpered and sprang away from Chase curling into a tight ball, protecting his head with his shaking arms. “I DIDN'T DO THIS!! I SWEAR!!”

A tiger Jack recognized as one of Chase's oldest warriors stalked forwards, its muzzle dripping with blood, and spat a . . . HAND!, Jack felt sick at the sight, on the ground near his foot. He scrambled away from the macabre thing but noticed the bloodied fingers still gripped something tightly.

The tiger growled, a loud angry rumbling before it roared. Its fury evident in the power of the sound echoing around the room, momentarily deafening Jack. It glared at him, then looked at the dragon then pointedly stared back at Jack before it stalked from the room. The rest of the warriors seeming to fade into the shadows.

Jack shook violently a moment before skittering around the bloody hand and back to Chase. He could find nothing else obviously wrong with the dragon. The odd stain on the tip of the dart must have been some sort of poison.

He started to reach for the discarded dart but the dragon suddenly jerked. Its eyes flew open with a snarl. Jack yelped and tried to back away but he wasn't fast enough. Chase had him pinned to the floor, his fanged maw barely an inch from Jack's face. Its low growl seemed to shake the very stones of the citadel. A razor sharp claw ripped through the shoulder of his jacket, shredding it instantly and digging into his flesh, blood welled around the dragon's talons.

“Chase!” Jack whimpered, his eyes squeezed shut certain he was about to meet a gruesome end.

The dragon's claws flexed and Jack could feel blood leaking down his shoulder. It snarled again, its hot breath blasting against his face and neck. Tears began to leak from the corners of Jack's eyes but a moment later he was startled out of his terror when the dragon suddenly whined and dropped onto him, crushing him beneath its greater bulk.

Jack cautiously opened his eyes to find himself staring into the dragon's face but instead of the usual golden orbs, they were clouded and white, reflecting the light oddly. Slowly, he reached up and touched the side of the dragon's head, his fingers ghosting around the blind eye. It flinched away with another small whine.

“Chase,” he whispered horrified at the sight. The dragon didn't move, didn't even seem to hear him.

Jack wriggled, trying to get out from beneath it but the dragon's grip tightened, digging its talons in deeper. He cried out at the sudden jolt of pain, tugging weakly at the claw that gripped him.

Chase lifted his head and tilted it a little to the side as if listening intently. He sniffed the air, then brought his muzzle closer to Jack's shoulder, nuzzling the hand that was trying to pull his claw away. Blood-smell and another, more familiar scent finally registered in the dragon's addled brain and it jerked back, releasing its claws. Fresh blood oozed from the wounds, perfuming the air. He leaned forward, whimpering as he licked the blood away gently.

“Chase! Stop! Let me up!” Jack exclaimed pushing the dragon's head away from his aching shoulder.

When he only lifted his head again and cocked it a little Jack understood. “You can't hear me,” he whispered. A hint of terror starting to blossom into full blown panic.

He pushed against the dragon again and it relented, allowing itself to be moved away. Jack sat up and quickly glanced at his shoulder. There were four deep punctures that bled slightly but nothing more serious. He sighed with relief then reached for the dart.

A claw suddenly grasped his leg, but much more gently. Jack glanced back and felt his gut wrench. Chase's head was cocked to the side clearly trying to listen while his blind eyes roamed in their sockets. Though a fearsome predator, Jack could clearly see the terror hidden beneath its expression.

There were times when he wondered how Chase and the dragon occupied the same body. He knew that Chase was in control most of the time, but occasionally it seemed the dragon part of him took over. Jack knew that this was one of those times. It made his head hurt trying to understand the strange synergy that existed between human and dragon.

He tried to reach for the dart, but was pulled back by the grip on his leg.

“Chase, I need to get the dart. We need to find out what did this.” Jack whined, hoping it wouldn't slice his leg open. The dragon moved its head a little as if it had heard him faintly. Jack tried again but much louder. When next he reached for the dart, he was not reeled back, but the dragon moved with him, unwilling to let him go. Jack sighed, this was going to be a long day.

He examined the dart carefully. Whatever the substance was, it had been dipped into it and Jack doubted there was enough residue to analyze. Reluctantly he glanced at the bloody . . . gift the tiger had left. Swallowing a sick feeling he prodded it with the tip of the dart. A vial was grasped tightly in the now stiffened fingers.

“EW! EW! EW! EW!” he exclaimed, head turned to the side, eyes tightly shut as he pried the vial free. There was still a small amount of something inside.

When Jack tried to get to his feet, the dragon pulled him back, whining once more.

“I need to go to my lab,” he said loudly and tried again. Chase let him up but refused to release his grip. It was a long awkward journey into the depths of the citadel. Jack had managed to compromise with the dragon, slowly guiding him through the long corridors, a hand resting lightly on his head, the edge of his jacket held tightly in the dragon's teeth.

Jack, for whom the slightest little thing could provoke the most intense fear, easily understand how Chase felt. Robbed of the two greatest of his senses, he was vulnerable and, Jack almost tripped when the thought occurred to him, completely dependent on his apprentice for protection at that very moment. It left a queasy feeling in the pit of his stomach and even knowing that the warriors were, no doubt, on patrol did not help in the least.

Two legs or four did not matter when Chase tripped on the last small flight of stairs. Jack was used to the uneven rise in tread but Chase was not and missed a step tumbling head first. He tried to prevent the dragon's fall but he was much too heavy and pulled Jack down with him. It was only a few short steps but somehow he managed to roll in front of Chase so that when the dragon came to an abrupt stop, his muzzle smashed into Jack's stomach rather than the hard stone floor.

Jack lay still gasping, trying to catch his breath. Chase slowly raised his head and shook it angrily then let out a frustrated bellow. Jack cringed as the noise reverberated in the narrow corridor. Without even looking, he knew there would be a dragon shaped bruise decorating his skin and the way his back throbbed he had serious doubts about moving once the adrenaline wore off. Still, he struggled to his feet.

“We're almost there,” Jack practically shouted. The dragon was hesitant but allowed itself to be led down into Jack's lab.

His army of Jack-bots had dwindled. The last few encounters with the monks had all gone very badly and he had not had enough time to come up with any new designs. He activated the few that remained and sent them out into the corridor with a single directive—protect the lab at all costs. Only Chase's warriors were allowed to come and go until Jack said otherwise.

It took several long minutes to set up his equipment and start the process analyzing the contents of the vial. Easy enough to automate, he did not need to keep constant watch.

Jack took a step back with a tired sigh, “Done. Now all we need to do is wAI—OOMPH!!”

Jack landed on the floor. Chase had understood _done_ and bowled him over. The dragon's mind was fuzzy and it couldn't think. He could not see and barely hear and the confusion sent an unfamiliar emotion stabbing through him—fear. But it knew Jack. His scent was familiar, safe, and in the lab, the other scents that clung to the boy were strong. The heavy stench of oil and grease, the acrid tang of welding and scorched circuitry eased some of the dragon's anxiety. This was Jack's lair and to the dragon's befuddled thoughts that equated to home and sanctuary.

The boy tensed for a moment then relaxed. The dragon lay its head on Jack's chest and dug its claws into his jacket, holding him firmly in place. There was fear in the dragon's eyes, but some of the tension eased when he did not protest. After a few minutes, Jack dug in his pockets. He was tired and hungry and luckily, found the granola bar he had snatched earlier in the day.

Opening it one handed, as Chase had the other arm trapped beneath his bulk, was a bit of a struggle and he ended up tearing the wrapper with his teeth. Unfortunately, the bar flew out and landed on the floor. Before he could reach for it a long tongue snaked out and Jack watched the dragon chew his snack.

“HEY! That was . . . never mind,” Jack sighed. The dragon had only tilted his head a little. Jack wondered how much it could even understand. This was definitely not his usual behavior. It was almost as if he was simply acting on instinct and he was extremely grateful that it was not predatory instinct at the moment. He watched the dragon's eyes slowly drift shut and huffed quietly to himself wriggly just enough to get more comfortable. _Jack Spicer, Evil Genius and . . . pillow to an over sized lizard!_ he thought grumpily but a faint smile touched his lips. The quiet hum of machinery eventually lulled him to sleep.

 


	2. Awakening

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own Xiaolin Showdown or any of its characters.

Chase decided he had had the strangest dream of his entire life. He couldn't seem to wake properly and waited for the odd lethargic feeling to pass.

The first thing he realized, he was snuggled against something soft and warm. This was not entirely unusual as his bed was made up of the finest silken sheets and luxurious furs, however it did not move nor did it . . . snore. The strong stench of machinery suddenly intruded upon his awareness and he opened his eyes.

The passing centuries of his long life had rendered the warlord immune to most situations. However, nothing could have prepared him for the shock of coming face to face with a sleeping Jack Spicer. He blinked in confusion, his mind doing all sorts of flip-flops and settled on one immutable fact—it had NOT been a dream.

There were all sorts of holes in his memory and a large gap of time he could not account for. How he had gotten into Jack's lab not to mention why he was there and . . . and apparently snuggling the boy being the most distressing. Pushing the sudden rush of strange emotions aside, he tried to sit up slowly and groaned.

“Why do I have grit in my mouth?” he grumbled, not realizing he had spoken aloud.

“Because you ate my granola bar after it fell on the floor,” Jack mumbled sleepily.

Chase arched a brow and watched Jack slowly sit up. He noticed him wincing in pain and the faint scent of blood became stronger when he stretched his arms.

Before the warlord could ask a single question, Jack suddenly gasped, his ruby eyes wide with shock.

“WAIT! You're you!”

“And just who else would I be?” Chase asked with a slight bit of irritation.

Jack opened his mouth, but the computer beeped shrilly. The incessant frequent nature of the tone indicating it had been finished for quite some time.

“Wait!” he exclaimed scrambling to his feet.

Chase took in the shredded condition of Jack's coat and a few things started clicking into place. He rose gracefully, if not a little wobbly, from the floor.

“Damn!” Jack exclaimed, thumping the table in frustration. ANALYSIS COMPLETE the screen blinked at him SUBSTANCE UNKNOWN.

“Spicer, what is going on?” Chase finally asked crossing his arms but unable to summon up his usual glare.

“This!” Jack growled, holding up the vial.

Chase took it carefully. It held a thick silvery grey liquid that iridesced when he tipped it. He jerked away after a cautious sniff and Jack watched in bewilderment as the vial and its contents were instantly incinerated. Nothing, not even ashes, remained.

“WHERE DID YOU GET THIS!?” the pure venom in Chase's voice sent Jack back a step in fear. The warlord's eyes were glowing fiercely.

“I . . I . . I . .” he stammered unable to speak.

Chase closed his eyes a moment and shivered violently, forcing himself to calm. He realized this was not Jack's doing. “What exactly happened since you left yesterday?” he asked in a more reasonable voice.

Jack quickly explained, though he did stutter a bit when the warlord's eyes flashed again.

“The dart,” Chase demanded interrupting Jack's explanation, holding out his hand. A moment later, it too ceased to exist.

“What . . “ Jack started.

“It is a poison made from a very rare plant. One which I THOUGHT had been completely wiped from the face of this planet. Obviously, I was mistaken,” Chase hissed narrowing his eyes.

“Sooo, its effects are short lived?” Jack asked a bit hesitantly.

Chase glared a moment. “Yes, fatally so.”

“Fatal . . . but . . .”

“It would appear that your arrival and actions were of a timely nature. Had the dragon been affected . . .”

“Wait! Chase! You WERE transformed when I found you!”

The warlord looked at Jack with a completely stunned and slightly terrified expression, “You did not say that I was transformed.”

“No, listen, you didn't let me finish. When I arrived, you were already a dragon. I only found the dart after rolling you. A minute or two later you awoke and attacked me. I'm pretty sure you were just running on instinct, but after you shredded my shoulder, the . . . scent of my blood seemed to calm you a bit.” Jack pinked slightly, “You, ah, the dragon even licked my shoulder.”

Chase knew his dragon's opinion of Jack and narrowed his eyes, “I would never attack you in either form.”

“You were blind and deaf. I'm pretty sure you didn't know who I was,” Jack said rather quietly.

“Blind . . .” that caught Chase's attention. He noticed Jack idly scratching a red welt on his wrist. “How did we get here?”

Jack rubbed his neck a little shyly, “You . . ah . . . the dragon didn't want to let me go so we compromised. I led it here and it got to maul my jacket,” he squeaked.

“So your injuries are from my initial attack,” Chase stated, somewhat relieved that he had not done more serious harm.

“Ah, not exactly. We sort of . . . fell down the stairs,” Jack admitted.

“Fell down . . . anything else I should know?” the warlord asked folding his arms. He wasn't sure if he should be angry, amused or terrified at this point.

“Well, ah, once I had the analysis started, you knocked me over and pinned me down. After you ate my snack you, ah, decided to use me as a pillow,” Jack was quite red with embarrassment.

Chase smirked slightly, his dragon's reaction to Jack was not surprising but . . . “You are quite certain that I was blind and deaf?”

Jack nodded, “Your eyes were clouded and white and you could only hear me, maybe a little, if I shouted.” He chewed his lip a moment, “If someone is making that poison we should get an antidote . . .”

“There isn't one,” Chase saw the sudden flicker of confusion and fear in Jack's eyes. Truthfully, he could identify with the feeling.

“Your shoulder,” Chase said suddenly changing the subject.

“It's fine,” Jack really didn't want him to worry about his shoulder.

“Now, Spicer,” Chase growled.

He sighed and let his ruined jacket slip to the floor. It was only then that he realized the front of his shirt was soaked with drool.

“EWWW!” Jack exclaimed stripping it off as well.

Chase snorted quietly then hissed when he got a good look at the boy. There was no mistaking the shape of the ugly black bruise that covered his torso.

“How?” was all Chase could manage.

“Ah, I told you we fell down the stairs. I sort of . . . cushioned your fall.” It was said a bit sheepishly.

Chase closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose with a long suffering sigh.

Jack's shoulder was punctured quite deeply and a little fresh blood had seeped out of the worst of the wounds. Chase was able to summon up enough magic to seal them but was appalled at the amount of effort it took for such a small thing.

He wobbled a moment before realizing that Jack had a firm grip on his arm. He glanced at the hand holding him steady and realized the welt looked like an allergic reaction to something.

“I believe,” the warlord said once he was steady and Jack had released him, “I shall lie down,” and without further explanation, vanished in a swirl of magic leaving Jack to worry about his sudden departure.

 

The moment he reappeared, Chase collapsed onto his bed, the effort of teleporting rendering him too exhausted to move. He stared at the ceiling, his mind whirling in confusion. There was simply no escaping the truth, he should be dead.

Immortal, yes, but there were still a few things capable of ending his existence and deathlily was one of them. The Bone Yard was the only place it could survive and it only bloomed once every hundred years or so and even then it was ONLY the pollen that the poison could be extracted from. Chase was CERTAIN he had destroyed EVERY plant centuries ago.

The poison's creation was very specialized knowledge. There was an ancient book in his library that described all the steps necessary and he was fairly certain such knowledge existed in the Xiaolin temple as well. They were unlikely to synthesize it as even a tiny sniff would be enough to kill Dojo. It was particularly toxic to mystical creatures—especially dragons.

Chase was much too tired to think. This would require a great deal of research and a trip to the Bone Yard. He hissed slightly as he rolled onto his side. He ached but . . . he was alive and that simply should not be. Blind, Jack had said. It had already started its insidiously slow destruction of his body and yet he had not succumbed. What did that mean? And more importantly, he thought, allowing himself to slowly drift into exhausted sleep, the welt on Jack's wrist . . . why was he reacting?

 


	3. Deathlilies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own Xiaolin Showdown or any of its characters.

The Bone Yard was a dry desolate place. Virtually nothing existed there, nothing could survive and yet Chase stared, there WERE lilies still alive but HOW?!

Three days after the attack and he was still weakened, his magic reserves low. Teleporting Jack and himself severely drained him. He was not accustomed to such feelings of vulnerability. He backed away slowly his mind swirling with many unexpected emotions and still a bit of confusion.

“Chase?” Jack asked curious and a little worried by the warlord's sudden drastic change in character.

“I've never seen them bloom,” he muttered, backing further away from the small clump of plants.

Beautiful indigo flowers arched in graceful racemes from long stalks atop each rosette of dull grey leaves. The air held a slightly alluring perfume. A sweet promise of nectar that belied the faint smell of decay if one bothered to pay attention to the scent. Each perfect downward facing flower seemed to glow in the harsh light and in the depths of each blossom, at its very heart, a small violet orb of pollen radiated an unnatural light.

“Destroy them,” the warlord whispered backing away even further.

“Chase?” Jack asked again. He hadn't been quite himself since the attack.

“They are the source of the poison. Deathlilies, I thought they were extinct.”

Without another word, Jack waded into the clump of tall flowers and started pulling the plants out by their roots. Snapped stems oozed a sticky white sap that clung to his hands and clothes. The rosettes of thick succulent leaves resisted his determined pull but the sandy ground gave way and Jack was able to yank the plants free revealing dozens of small bulbs clinging to the roots. He coughed and wheezed as clouds of pollen drifted from the flowers with even the tiniest movement.

“Jack!” Chase was suddenly aware of the boy's somewhat labored breathing.

He looked up at the warlord curiously.

“The pollen!” Chase's mind was frozen. The drifting clouds, settling around Jack, dancing in the very faint updrafts from the desert heat . . . were terrifying. His dragon cringed with each small puff of violet.

Somewhat confused, Jack looked around and noticed the faint violet tint in the air. His mind whirled then clicked, the pollen! It was the source! He scrabbled in his pocket a moment.

“Sphere of Yun!” and then Chase was suddenly inside the bubble well away from the drifting clouds. If someone had asked, Jack would not have been able to say why, exactly, he had taken that particular Wu. It had just seemed like a good idea at the time.

“Jack! What have you done?” Chase wasn't angry, he was terrified.

Jack sneezed and rubbed his face, smearing sap and pollen across his cheeks.

“You should be safe in there. The pollen can't get in,” Jack mumbled with a sigh, he didn't have any tissues in his pockets and with a disgusted expression rubbed his sleeve across his nose.

“No, YOU! The pollen is making you sick!”

Jack waved a dismissive hand, “I'm allergic to a lot of plants,” he mumbled grabbing another handful of leaves and tugging furiously. He trampled the plants beneath his boots and crushed as many of the bulbs as he could find. But nearly an hour later, covered from head to toe with glowing pollen and sticky sap, the lilies still looked alive.

Chase was sitting in the sphere watching. He felt uneasy and a bit disconcerted. He was POSITIVE he had destroyed the damned things centuries ago. How had they survived?

Jack dug in the sand and unearthed a handful of very tiny bulbs. There was no way he could get them all by himself and there was no way he was letting Chase out of the sphere ANYWHERE near the lilies—not even until AFTER he had returned to his house and scrubbed every molecule of pollen and sap from himself and incinerated his clothes.

“Fire,” Chase said to Jack's angry frown. He realized he should have spoken immediately but the very existence of the lilies had distracted him and he had been too caught up in his own brooding silence.

“Huh?” pulled from his thoughts.

“Fire destroys them and renders the poison inert.”

_Perfect,_ Jack thought with a smirk and summoned some of his Jack-bots.

“You really need to get that pollen off,” Chase growled, feeling intensely silly. Hiding, of all things, inside the sphere from a plant, yet he felt oddly safe.

“Yeah, well, not until after all these plants are toast!” Jack grumbled stomping a few more bulbs.

Chase quirked a brow, Jack seemed a lot more intense about this—practically ferocious. If he could only instill the same attitude in the boy when he trained.

Half an hour later they both watched with great satisfaction as the bots incinerated the plants. They scorched the earth until it was black and charred, then dug deeply into the sand and started the process again—turning the plot over and over until every vestige of the plants had been obliterated. Just to be safe, he ordered the bots to do it again and widened the ring of destruction, making a mental note to check in a few weeks to insure none had survived.

 

Chase was reasonably certain Jack had lost his mind. Not only had he showered twice but even went as far as rinsing off the outside of the Sphere and ordered the Jack-bot that had transported Chase into his old lair. He had tried to explain that a few grains of pollen would not be harmful but Jack was adamant and until he was satisfied that Chase would not be contaminated, the warlord had had to sit inside the Sphere and wait.

Jack was still sniffling a little when he finally released him.

Chase let out a pleased sound that he was finally able to stretch properly and the fresh air did wonders quieting his inner turmoil. He noticed the hard set of the boy's jaw and realized Jack was still worrying and angry. He held out his hand to the warlord, the Sphere of Yun nestled in his palm.

“Keep it,” Chase remarked without even thinking, followed by a dismissive wave.

“But . . .”

“You have proven your loyalty. I know my trust is not misplaced. You may have need of it.”

Surprised, Jack pocketed the Shen Gong Wu.

“I do not know how the lilies regenerated,” Chase muttered, pacing slightly. His head jerked up at a small sound, his nerves were still on edge.

“We should discuss this away from those who might spy,” and placing a hand on Jack's shoulder, teleported them back to the citadel.

They reappeared a moment later in the library and Chase flopped bonelessly into a chair exhausted beyond anything he could remember. He rubbed at the large angry welt on his neck. He could not say that it was painful but it did ache in a rather distracting way. It was smaller and with each passing day, he could feel himself recovering slowly. He did not know how he had survived and none of his research had given him even the slightest clue.

“When I discovered the potential danger the lilies posed, I destroyed them. I know I did. The sand burned for days!” Chase snarled suddenly.

Jack was too angry to be startled by the warlord's outburst and only nodded listening raptly.

“I returned several times to ensure that none survived.”

“A dormant seed?” Jack suggested, sitting at Chase's wave.

“Not likely. Remember, the monks sought the Bird of Paradise, I would have noticed something growing in that wasteland.”

Jack grumbled remembering the nasty Ying-Ying bird.

“What about Bean?”

Chase considered, not really sure how that particular creature might fit into the picture.

“I do not know,” Chase replied after further consideration. “It does not fit his style and yet in the same breath it does. Manipulating the circumstance to his own ends. That aside, the plants are, or rather were, growing where they have not for at least six hundred years.”

“Spread from somewhere else?” Jack muttered, suddenly tense.

Chase could clearly see Jack ready to go in search of any remaining lilies. It was . . . interesting.

“No. They can only live in the Bone Yard. It is the . . . nature of the place that makes them flourish.”

The unknown infuriated Chase and he suddenly rose with an angry huff. A rather large dusty book, pages yellowed and ragged with age, was tossed at Jack.

“Perhaps a fresh set of eyes,” he muttered returning to his chair.

“We shall have to wait and see if there is another attempt. Perhaps the one already dispatched was alone in his desire to end my existence,” Chase growled steepling his fingers in thought. His eyes flashed momentarily, “Regardless, I shall take all due precautions. Do not leave the fortress without my express permission!”

The last was growled at Jack, who, under normal circumstances, would have cowered at the expression on Chase's face. As it was, he nodded grimly, “Understood. I would take this to my lab.”

He rose at Chase's nod of dismissal, book tightly clenched in hand and stormed from the room, seeking the dark heart of the fortress. Angry mutterings echoing incoherently down the hall, loud enough to give Chase pause. Jack had been behaving oddly ever since the attack. He realized something had changed.

 


	4. Revelations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own Xiaolin Showdown or any of its characters.

It had taken five days to completely recover. There was still a slight bit of weakness, but Chase knew that would vanish before the next sunrise. He did not relish the idea of actually fighting, but the sight before him was almost enough to make him reconsider.

Four monks in battle formation were screeching an assortment of rubbish and nonsense, disrupting the relative peace of Chase's citadel. Jack stood just off to the side, looking for all the world as if he had arrived only a few minutes earlier and doing an excellent job of feigning theatrics at the mere sight of his evil idol, fear of his warriors and a bit of sneering disdain for the monks.

The warlord drummed his fingers on his throne waiting for the babbling children to stop their noise.

“I do not have your toys nor do I have a use for them. Be gone,” he waved imperiously with a bored expression.

“Chase Young,” Omi solemnly intoned, jabbing one of his pointy little fingers at the warlord, “you will not be pulling the sheep over my head.”

“That's wool over my eyes,” Raimundo automatically corrected rolling his eyes at the little monk.

“That as well. I know you stole our Shen Gong Wu and I demand you return it!”

“Chase doesn't need to steal your stupid Wu!” Jack exclaimed in his most fanboyish voice. He was struggling with his jacket as if there was something in one of its pockets he was trying to pull free. “He's so awesome he could beat you with one little finger!” he defended loudly still fighting with his pocket. Chase resorted to a sneer to hide his amusement.

“As if,” Kimiko scoffed.

“Just hand over the Rio Reverso and the Sphere of Yun and there won't be any trouble pardner,” Clay added.

Jack stopped wrestling with his coat long enough to flick a startled look at Chase before snorting, “HA! You lost two Shen Gong Wu and don't even know who stole them!”

“Yeah, like you would know,” Kimiko mocked.

“Actually I do,” he boasted, puffing out his chest a bit. “I took the Sphere of Yun.”

“Pfft! Yeah right, as if,” Kimiko muttered derisively.

“You are lying Jack Spicer!” Omi accused.

“Nope. I took the Sphere of Yun. It's mine, I'm keeping it and no, I will not get into a Showdown over it,” he added seeing Raimundo open his mouth to issue just such a challenge.

Chase crossed his arms and glared at Spicer, they both knew it was only for show, “YOU have the Sphere of Yun?”

“Ah . . yeah?” Jack said a bit timidly, rubbing the back of his neck.

“I believe you were just _leaving_ . . .” Chase snarled, narrowing his eyes significantly.

“Oh! . . . um . . . yeah . . . right, I'll just um . . .”

“NOW Spicer!”

He gave a small terrified eep and was rapidly escorted from the room by a growling snarling Shanti. Unfortunately, Dojo was waiting just outside the door and Jack had to go to the trouble of flying away, or at least making it appear that he had. He did not want to leave Chase alone until they could discover who had stolen the Rio Reverso and who had tried to poison the warlord.

Jack was able to sneak back a few minutes later. Dojo was lounging between the lanterns, his long tail idly flicking over the edge, examining his claws. He almost laughed at the dragon's idea of alert and on guard.

Jack was a terrible fighter, a fact that Chase bemoaned almost every day, but stealth—Jack excelled at stealth. It came so easily to the boy the warlord had commented that it must be a natural ability, his desire to run and hide, to creep around in the shadows unobserved. He used every bit of his training to quietly slip back into the throne room. The monks were making so much noise he doubted they would have noticed if he'd walked in under a trumpeting fanfare.

Chase stood, arms folded scowling at them as the monks continued to make demands and threats promising 'a most humiliating defeat'. Jack found himself scowling as well. To his eyes, Chase still looked tired and he didn't put it past the monks to attack unprovoked.

He felt around in his pockets for some of the little pods he'd made earlier in the week. They were still in the prototype stage and there were a few technicalities to work out, but they could deliver quite an electric punch and Jack was just in the mood to get up close and personal with the monks if necessary. He was a little stunned by his own sudden ferocity but after a moment's thought decided he liked it and wondered what a few thousand volts would do to Kimiko's ridiculous hairstyle.

Sadly, his chance to field test his inventions vanished when Dojo came rushing into the room yelling about a new Shen Gong Wu. The monks frowned and threatened some more as they hurried after the dragon, “This isn't over Chase Young!” echoing down the empty corridor.

“Should I . . .” Jack began, stepping from his place of concealment.

“No,” Chase frowned, “it is some trivial thing barely worth notice. I am sure Wuya will make a sufficient nuisance of herself.”

“We must find who has stolen the Rio Reverso,” Chase growled, returning to his throne. “We find the missing Shen Gong Wu and we will discover who sent my would-be assassin.”

Chase leaned back and steepled his fingers together, thinking. A few things came to his notice that he had missed in the earlier excitement. First, several Jack-bots were concealed in various places around the room. They didn't look like the standard bot, but somehow more aggressive in design.

Some of his warriors had lingered even after the monk's departure. They seemed as much on edge as Jack, who nervously jiggled something in his pocket. Idly Chase wondered what it might be. Then there was Shanti. The caracal usually dogged Jack's footsteps but had suddenly become Chase's shadow.

“What is this?” he finally asked, drawing a confused look from Jack. Chase indicated the bots.

“Ah . . . well, I sort of realized,” he began, looking extremely uncomfortable, “there's more to being your apprentice than just training and . . . um . . . yeah.”

Chase arched a brow in question, putting Jack on the spot, demanding an explanation.

Jack started pacing, an agitated motion reflecting his inner turmoil. 

“When you were poisoned, you depended on me . . . depended on me to protect you. The warriors were on patrol but . . . someone got past them, got to you!” His pacing became more frantic and his voice took on a shrill panicked note. “I'm not a warrior, I know that. I'll never be really good at fighting. If the monks or Wuya had shown up I wouldn't have been able to defend you. I had a few bots but they're not that great in battle—they break too easily,” he had to stop, he was shaking. “Attacked in my own lair was irritating but never really bothered me. It was just me, no one else to think about but here . . .” he was starting to hyperventilate his hands balled into fists.

“Jack, calm down,” Chase said gently, instantly realizing he had not referred to him as Spicer. More and more the boy was becoming Jack in his mind. “Tell me about the new bots,” trying to distract him.

“They're not new. I modified an old design. Heavier more durable armor, an improved AI with more aggressive programming and they're armed to the teeth. But their primary function isn't attack—it's defense.”

Chase looked puzzled, Jack usually preferred a full out head on attack. Defense was generally not a primary concern.

“I uh, spent years analyzing your fighting styles,” Jack admitted with a slight blush and began pacing nervously again. “They're programmed to stay out of your way and not hinder the warriors either but if something should happen, they will defend aggressively. They can be ordered to attack but,” he shrugged, “you and the warriors are their primary objective.”

That was . . . unexpected. There was something Jack had not said that left him with a feeling of unease.

“And I assume there are others stationed in your lab?”

Jack stopped, looking surprised, “What? No, these are all the bots I have left. The last time there was a Wu, the monks used that Orion thing and left nothing but a pile of useless scrap,” he shrugged, it was nothing new.

“So you are left without defense?” Chase asked a hint of irritation in his voice.

“Eh,” he shrugged, “I'm more . . . expendable,” it was said a little sadly but Jack knew it was true.

Chase and his dragon both growled at that, “You are my apprentice and in as much not expendable nor so easily replaced!”

Jack took a step back, not expecting Chase, no not just Chase both of them, he had heard the dual nature of that growl, to react so strongly. The warlord's eyes were narrowed, tightly slitted and glowing. Jack had not seen such a fierce glare directed at him in quite some time.

“Ch . . Chase?” Jack took another step back.

“Do not speak such foolishness again! I will not have you left unguarded!”

“Th . there's always Shanti,” he stammered.

“One warrior, one small caracal is not enough!” Chase was on his feet snarling furiously. This sudden turn of emotion was unfamiliar and he used anger to hide his fear.

“I'll . . . I'll modify the programming,” Jack squeaked taking even more steps back, holding up his hands trying to placate the angry dragonlord.

“See that you do!” he snapped stalking from the room.

Jack stared after Chase for several long minutes. His brain had simply seized up and he couldn't understand what had made the warlord so angry. The bots were meant to protect Chase and the most effective way to do that was to protect his warriors as well—not Jack.

He sighed resignedly and headed for his lab, one of the Jack-bots following obediently. A few lines of code later, the program was altered and the bot went to stand guard outside his door.

Jack leaned back and shivered. The book Chase had practically thrown at him lay open, the steps to extracting the poison so simple. He frowned.

Not once or even twice, perhaps a dozen times, he had read and reread the entire thing. With varying degrees of toxicity, deathlilies were poisonous to mystical creatures. Dragons succumbed quickly, followed by some avians and, oddly enough, qilin. There was no way to stop the poison's progression and yet Chase had survived. 

Jack wondered if it was, perhaps, that Chase WASN'T purely draconic in nature or something in the Lao Mang Lone.  _Substance unknown_ still blinked at him and he bit his lip, worrying it between his teeth.

Chemistry was not his strong suite but he still understood the spectrum analysis. Knew the effects the stuff would have on flesh and blood and shivered violently remembering Chase's clouded eyes.

_ He should not be here, _ at tiny fearful voice whispered in his mind. Filled with a sudden rage, Jack surged forward and brought his fists down on the table making the book jump. Now was not the time for such thoughts and flipped the book back to the first page.

Never mind the monks, Wuya or any of the rest, someone, some anonymous person out there knew how to hurt Chase and that was unacceptable.

Jack growled to himself as he started reading again, automatically reaching for pen and paper to take even more notes—it was going to be a long night.

 


	5. To Seek Truthes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own Xiaolin Showdown or any of it's characters. Only Shanti and 'tsune are mine.

* * *

 

_I KNOW YOUR SECRET_

 

That's all it said. Chase turned the small folded paper over in his hand then read it again and frowned not even sure WHAT it was supposed to mean.

Chase was a private man and considered most of his life that—PRIVATE. But secrets? Chase held very few true secrets. Most of what the world thought of as secret could easily be found by leafing through the pages of the right history books. His frown turned to a scowl of annoyance.

Jack chose that moment to walk into the library. He looked bedraggled and tired, dressed in an old tatty pair of jeans and frayed red t-shirt. Sleep had been elusive and he had spent the night in his lab researching.

Jack's gaze seemed to pass right through Chase to the shelves of books and scrolls. Tomes of great antiquity covered in decades worth of dust, scrolls ancient beyond imagining held together only by the fine lines of magic preserving them were stacked to the ceiling in a haphazard way yet there was order to the madness. Jack was so focused on the scroll he sought Chase simply did not exist.

“Is this some kind of joke Spicer?” Chase's sudden words cut through Jack's concentration startling him so badly it drew a terrified shriek from his lips and toppled him cringing against the wall, sliding to the floor.

That reaction was not what Chase had anticipated and his frown darkened.

“Ch . . Chase, I didn't see you . . .”

“That much is obvious,” the warlord remarked slowly taking in Jack's frazzled appearance. “Is this your doing?” he asked holding up the slip of paper.

“I . . . What?”

The boy looked confused as he picked himself up from the floor. He looked at it a moment, turning it this way and that, even examining the back carefully before turning it back over again.

Jack's expression matched Chase's, “Secret?”

“Am I to assume you had nothing to do with this?”

“No,” Jack mumbled. “How did . . . where did you . . .” he seemed unable to order his thoughts coherently and shook his head trying to clear the cobwebs from his sleep deprived mind.

“One of my warriors brought it to me this morning. It was found outside,” Chase answered the obvious question Jack had been unable to form.

“Outside,” he mumbled, his eyes beginning to droop slightly, the sudden fright had taken the last of his nervous energy with it.

“When was the last time you slept?” Chase asked suddenly, realizing the dark circles under Jack's eyes had nothing to do with the makeup he habitually insisted on wearing.

“Um . . . yesterday?” Jack hedged not really sure himself.

“Spicer,” Chase growled in warning.

“I haven't been able to sleep. I keep thinking and can't shut down.”

Chase sighed, “A lack of sleep will only lead to mistakes and potential injury,” he reminded.

“I know!” Jack exclaimed, then huffed tiredly folding his arms.

Chase rose slowly, regarding the boy a moment. There was a swirl of magic and he caught Jack before he hit the floor. _This is becoming a habit,_ the warlord grumbled to himself as he carried him up to his room.

Chase was not prepared for the sight that greeted him when he opened Jack's door. Stuff was everywhere. Blueprints, designs, concepts, notebooks filled with careful precise formulas and equations, spare parts laid out neatly in rows—on the floor! Sticky notes clung tenaciously to the sides of Jack's computer, the screen nearly covered and the walls . . . the walls were not visible beneath—Chase wasn't even sure what some of the pages represented. He could not truly call it a mess, more like orderly chaos.

The only untouched surface—Jack's bed. Tidy, neatly made with clean sheets and blankets and obviously unslept in for days. Chase huffed quietly as he tugged off Jack's boots before tucking him into the bed.

Shanti was waiting by the door once he made his way cautiously back through the hazard filled room. He stared at her a moment then shook his head.

“Stay with Jack. He needs you more than I need a constant shadow.”

Shanti bowed her head, a faint smile briefly touched Chase's lips.

“I see. It was Jack's idea,” he scratched her ear gently eliciting a soft purr. “I will speak with him when he awakens.” Her purr became a happy rumble as she disappeared into Jack's room.

Out of curiosity, Chase descended into the heart of the citadel and ultimately Jack's lab. If he thought the boy's room in total disarray, he was not prepared for what awaited beyond that door.

Scrolls and books were stacked haphazardly on every surface. Even the boy's workbench, usually dedicated to his bots and inventions, was overflowing. An entire table was devoted to stacks of printouts and notebooks filled with Jack's careful hand yet for all that they were clearly written in English, they might as well have been in some alien tongue. Chase deduced they had something to do with chemical analysis but beyond that he was lost.

The blueprints usually covering Jack's drafting table where hanging on the walls. Many sported roughly penciled changes and corrections, notes on improvements scrawled in a more shaky hand and some even had diagrams for as yet unknown parts taped to their edges.

Jack-bots in various stages of assembly covered nearly half the floor while parts and tools were scattered everywhere—oil and grease making for perilous footing. The harsh stench of an acetylene torch assailed his nose and there was no mistaking the acrid tang of burnt circuitry. It was truly utter chaos.

Only one corner was orderly, one small island in a sea of disaster. Two or three ancient tomes lay open on Jack's drafting table. Several small notebooks were filled with careful annotations and references while others held translations. Liao, a long extinct language, filled two entire binders. It looked as if Jack had translated the entire book. Portions were highlighted and a scribbled note at the bottom of the last page held the title of an ancient scroll. Chase had forgotten it was even within the citadel—a treatise on the nature of mystical creatures.

The sheer amount of effort Jack had put into his research was quite impressive and it was obvious what answers the boy sought. Chase lightly traced a finger over an odd doodle in the margins of a page and sighed. There was no escaping the one singular fact—there was and never had been an antidote for deathlily poison. Only those of mortal flesh were immune, those who were not either survived or perished, most succumbed.

Chase knew he would have to speak with Jack. He could not allow this to continue.

 

It took the warlord some time to return to the library. The long stretches of steps and hallways seemed duller than normal, almost subdued. The library was oddly quiet and left Chase with a strange uneasy feeling that was hard to describe. It wasn't until his eyes settled upon the goban that he realized exactly what had him so out of sorts.

Jack usually whined at the early morning exercise regime and complained loudly about Chase's choice of daily training, especially if it involved any actual combat or sparring. He knew Jack worked hard in an attempt to please him, they simply had yet to find a style of fighting that suited the boy. But it was this very thing Chase realized he was missing.

The boisterous child that had annoyed him to no end, whose incessant fawning and constant flattering had made him physically cringe with every word, had slowly evolved into the young man Chase had taken for his apprentice. A much more mature but just as lively individual whose very presence brightened the citadel in a way that had been missing before.

It was this very uniquely Jack quality that seemed to have vanished the moment Chase was attacked. The boy was so focused and obsessed he almost seemed a completely different person. Chase's own indisposition had precluded their daily routine and allowed Jack to further sink into this odd mindset. A vein of anger bubbling just below the surface of his normally calm but easily distracted and excitable personality. Eschewing inventions for dusty books and ancient scrolls, without the enthusiasm for new discovery or delight in a challenge conquered.

That was most certainly not the Jack Spicer Chase had taken for an apprentice nor did he desire it. His apprentice was loud and whiny, prone to complaining and accidents and the occasional odd occurrence, seemed to attract all manner of creatures, invent some of the strangest things and loved knowledge for knowledge's sake. That was the the Jack Spicer he wanted gracing his halls and that was the Jack Spicer he intended to get back. And the only way to do that was to end this ridiculous charade!

 

The little slip of paper sat on his desk staring at Chase as he glared back at it. He had already determined who had NOT sent it, now he needed to discover who had.

It was a small square piece of note paper, unlined, plain white with no watermarks or other identifying characteristics. The handwriting was simple and though bold, seemed almost timid, crammed together as if the writer was not certain if they wanted to put pen to paper. The strokes a bit shaky and hesitant but nothing obvious that would give away the person's identity. There was nothing, not even a scent for clue and the envelope was exactly the same.

_Secret_ , he pondered. The few things he truly did not wish anyone to know he kept locked securely in his own mind, not foolish enough to write them where they might be observed much less speak them aloud. Jack's apprenticeship was a secret in as much he wished to keep it from the monks and other Heylin as long as possible. The boy's own safety the primary reason but it was hardly earthshaking news.

He rose with an irritated huff realizing he was beginning to think in circles. His anger at the week's events was beginning to cloud his mind and Chase still had a few unresolved issues nagging at his thoughts, distracting him, keeping him from focusing on the problem at hand. He needed to clear his mind.

 

It was peaceful in the gardens, calming, soothing, with only the sound of rushing water pouring over the falls to disrupt the quiet. Chase sat in meditation floating a few feet from the ground. Breathing in the tranquility until his frantic thoughts ceased their wild flutterings and his mind stilled to glass.

How long he remained cocooned in that moment of utter peace was difficult to say. A presence brought him to wakefulness and Chase slowly opened his eyes.

'tsune was staring at him. Not moving, not speaking, just . . . staring. A smile slowly spread across her face until it resembled a Cheshire cat's wicked grin. She inhaled deeply and a moment later the peace was shattered by a loud burst of laughter that echoed from every possible direction.

It's suddenness lost Chase his focus and he fell to the ground with a hard thump followed by more tittering laughter at his embarrassment. He scowled up at the spirit but she vanished slowly until the faint sounds of her laughter fell to the rush of water over the falls.

_What was that all about?_ He growled to himself his mood worse than it had been before he started. The gentle breeze created by the falls seemed to carry an unexpected response, _Be careful what you wish for._

 

It was late evening when Jack finally awoke and joined Chase for a repast. He sat at the table staring at his plate but not eating. Chase was becoming irritated with his behavior and somewhat concerned that his health was starting to suffer.

“Spicer . . .” he began.

“I know,” Jack sighed picking up his fork, toying with his food a moment before taking a small bite.

Chase glared down at his own setting, the Lao Mang Lone was cooler than he would prefer but took a slow sip just the same.

“Your research and diligence is quite impressive, but I am afraid that the result will be the same. It is the very exact quest I undertook centuries ago when I discovered the potential threat the lilies posed. Even though I destroyed them, or at least assumed that I had, I could find no way of countering the effects of the poison.”

Jack hurriedly swallowed, “But I have the chemical analysis, the exact makeup of the poison. I should be able to fabricate . . .”

“Therein lies the problem,” Chase replied, taking another slow sip while he ordered his thoughts. “It is much like the Lao Mang Lone. It is specific to me and the dragon within. What it would do, how it would affect you if you were to drink it, I do not know,” he paused to dab his lips with a napkin. “I have no doubt that you could easily synthesize the poison . . .”

“No!” Jack interrupted vehemently, “I would never!”

“I know Spicer, but as I was saying, though you could easily synthesize the poison and each batch would be exactly the same, it would not affect any two creatures in the same manner. There is an element to it that transcends science and it is that ethereal something that affects those who are not mortal. A dragon, such as Dojo, would die from the vapors alone while a nian might actually survive. It more depends upon the essence of the creature, its magic more than anything else. . . .”

“Wait, those are real?”

“Jack,” Chase said with great exasperation, slipping once again, using his proper name, “you have spoken with a naga and know a talking bean yet you have problems believing nian exist?”

“Naga? When?!”

Chase snorted wondering if he should tell him, “That is not the point. It is the nature of each individual that is affected by the poison. The more magic, the older it is, the more susceptible, immortal or not. Only the most ancient spirits are truly immune.”

Jack huffed, thinking as he took another bite. It still did not make any sense.

“Then how are you here?” he finally demanded, his voice shrill and louder than he intended.

Chase regarded him calmly a moment, “I do not know.”

There was a long uncomfortable silence.

“Maybe . . maybe it wasn't extracted right,” Jack offered, “or the dosage wasn't enough.”

Chase sighed, there was little point in telling Jack that a single drop on the skin was more than enough. The dart had pierced him, delivering it directly to his blood.

“Whatever the reason, we should focus more on who is responsible. The note is most likely from the same individual.”

“But what if . . . what if . .”

“Having been exposed to it once, there is a good chance that it will not affect me again,” he rubbed the bridge of his nose tiredly. “There is little point in worrying about this. Find the source and eliminate it and the threat is diminished. THAT is what we should focus on.”

Jack poked at his food a little, “You think I should stop.”

It took Chase a moment to change mental gears again and sighed, “Yes, I do. It is not something that you should be worrying about.” Chase paused finding it strange that he was actually considering his words carefully rather than just speaking his mind, “Your concern and dedication is admirable, but you must remember, I am the teacher and you are the student. I have lived over a thousand years and know how to defend myself and protect what is mine.” Chase paused again, considering the floating bits in his soup, “There are many aspects of your apprenticeship that we have not yet touched upon, many things that you are not yet ready to understand and all of that shall come in time. It is true that defending your master is one of those things but you have only just begun this journey. I do not expect nor do I want you to focus upon this to the sole exclusion of all else. This is consuming you. Let it be, the answer will reveal itself in time.”

Jack looked almost as weary as Chase felt and suddenly realized exactly how obsessed he had become. All thoughts of the monks and Wu and even his robots and other inventions supplanted by a single-minded fixation upon something that potentially had no solution. He managed a few more bites before huffing at himself in irritation, “So how do we find the person that sent the note?”

“In the morning, I will cast a small locator spell. If they are as foolish as the note seems to indicate, it should be the easiest way.”

Jack nodded, “But what if it's someone like Wuya or Bean?”

“Then I shall resort to more drastic measures. Perhaps even _borrowing_ some of the monks' Shen Gong Wu.”

Jack snorted at that, “I'm sure they'll be oh so willing to help.”

“I can be very persuasive,” Chase smirked.

There was a moment of silence before they both laughed, the odd miasma that had surrounded them since Jack found Chase, dispelled.

 

The next morning found the pair in a much better mood. A new level of camaraderie settling over them completely unnoticed. Jack was more at ease in the warlord's presence. He no longer felt the need to cringe at every growled word or harsh criticism and Chase was less sharp. At some point he had realized Jack had seen him at potentially his most vulnerable and somehow that no longer rankled as it once might have, the boy acting far more mature than he thought possible.

The simple spell revealed an old shack hidden deep in the woods. There were no wards set to keep out spying eyes nor were there magics of any sort. It appeared to be nothing more than a cabin long neglected but a thin wisp of smoke left no doubt that someone was home.

Jack checked his pockets once again watching as Chase's eyes narrowed dangerously. He hoped he had everything he might need. Such an easy target, he knew Chase would be cautious but leave immediately.

“It is too obvious,” the warlord snarled staring at the image intently. “Deep in the woods, away from prying eyes, unguarded, it is most assuredly a trap.”

He paced, still glaring. Jack stood silently, knowing full well the dangers of interrupting the warlord when he was in such a state.

Chase did not like the situation. Under normal circumstances, he would have already stormed the house, decimated the occupants and razed it to the ground. But there was the note and its implied secrets and, of course, the poison. He did not know nor had he any desire to further test his vulnerability to the substance. It could well have been a fluke that he had survived the original exposure.

He would need his apprentice, need Jack and that was a further complication. They both knew he was a liability but the chances of being incapacitated again were high and in his potentially weakened state . . . he huffed angrily.

“We are going!” he snapped. Trap or not this would end NOW!

 


	6. Lay Bare the Nemesis

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own Xiaolin Showdown or any of its characters.

It was a small two maybe three room shack out in the middle of nowhere. Both Chase and Jack eyed it suspiciously. What once might have been a quaint little cabin slowly falling to neglect and decay. A few clapboards hung askew and a large section of gutter had pulled free and drooped at an odd angle lightly dripping from the heavy dew. A small stack of recently split wood huddled near an old wooden door beneath a narrow porch. The hum of a generator caught Jack's attention. Sitting in the the shadow of a deep overhang, it was old and rusty and spluttered occasionally. Two fuel tanks stood beside it and the faint odor of gasoline and exhaust drifted in the air.

Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Birds sang and flitted amongst the trees and bushes. Leaves swayed gently in the light breeze and cicadas chattered loudly in the early morning light. A faint wisp of smoke rose from a metal chimney pipe jutting through the wall adding the smell of wood smoke to the air.

Chase glared from the dark shadows cast by the surrounding forest and waited. Jack stood silently without complaint knowing full well that the warlord was concentrating on the cabin and any possible traps or magics set about the place, searching for any hints that their arrival had been noticed. Nearly an hour passed before Chase huffed in annoyance. “Remain here,” he growled before striding across the meadow.

Jack chewed his lip in silence, agitated, perhaps even more so than Chase. For all the times he had stood alone against the monks, competed against Chase and Wuya in showdowns, even confronted by Bean, he had never felt so utterly helpless. There was literally nothing he could do except stand and wait. Finally Chase motioned him forwards and Jack did his very best to quickly and silently join his master.

Somewhat surprisingly, the heavily weathered door opened without so much as a creak revealing a small darkened room. There were no lights, only a small oil lamp hung on a peg and a candle that looked mostly for decoration. Dim sunshine streamed though a small filthy window unable to penetrate into the darkly paneled room and even the light from the opened door did little to dispel the gloom. Chase prowled silently within the confines of the small space, examining every little detail but Jack remained still taking careful note of his surroundings.

The first thing he noticed was the Rio Reverso lying on a table near the room's one tiny window. _Too obvious_ , he thought unless the one that left it really was an idiot. There were a couple of old chairs pushed against the table, their red upholstered seats torn and frayed, stuffing peeking out and leaking onto the floor. A glass fronted cabinet in desperate need of cleaning hugged the opposite wall and grimy pictures lined one side of the room near a closed door. An ancient shag carpet covered the center of the floor. It was clearly at odds with the rest of the room as it looked as if someone had actually tried to clean it while leaving cobwebs to hang in the corners and drape in vast sheets from the ceiling.

Satisfied that everything was as it appeared, Chase motioned Jack towards the Shen Gong Wu. He was surprised that the floor felt solid and did not pop or creak beneath his heavy boots as the entire shack looked as if a good wind might blow it down.

His eyes shifted out the window a moment and noticed a bird sitting on a dead limb—a very familiar bird. Before he could utter a single word, there was a noise from behind the closed door. It froze him in his tracks and made his blood run cold.

A second later, the door was flung open. A short little man stood in the shadows. If asked, Jack would not have been able to describe him past that as his eyes were riveted on the barrels of the gun slowly raised in his direction. The noise he had heard, the sound of a breech quietly closing.

“Jack!” Chase roared slamming the boy against the wall a bare second before the shot rang out narrowly missing both of them. A double-barreled shotgun if he was not mistaken and the little man had emptied them both. It would take him a moment to reload—a moment too long.

The door was slammed in his face but the flimsy bit of wood was nothing compared to the strength of an enraged dragonlord. It splintered beneath his half formed talons as Chase crashed into the darkened room beyond. There was a sharp cry and then the sound of another slammed door followed by a deafening silence.

It took Jack a moment to gather his badly frayed nerves. His ears were ringing from the proximity of the blast and he was sure the impact with the wall, not to mention Chase's quick actions, would leave angry painful bruises. The smell of gunpowder hung heavily in the air and something else, something cloying and vaguely familiar beneath the sharp sulfur stench. He heard an angry growl from beyond the wrecked door and panicked. He smelled deathlilies. “Chase!” Jack shouted, crashing through the gaping doorway into the darkness beyond.

In the dim light, the dragonlord stood silently. He was holding the mangled remains of the shotgun in one trembling hand the other clenched in a tight fist. His eyes were blazing with fury, glowing golden and bright, the dragon barely contained.

“Chase?” Jack questioned cautiously, approaching very, very slowly, “Are . . are you . . .”

He met the dragon's gaze and swallowed roughly, withering beneath his glare.

“I . . I saw the Ying-Ying bird outside and I thought I smelled . . .”

“You did,” Chase finally managed in a low growl, shuddering, “the shells were laced with it.” He did not need to explain nor did he wish to dwell upon what might have happened had either of them been caught in the blast.

“Bean!” a single hateful word snarled into the silence, filled with rage and loathing.

Jack said nothing, his sense of self-preservation keeping him quiet, allowing the warlord to calm. Finally, the twisted metal was flung from his hand and Chase turned towards the other door. A solid metal security door that fared no better than its wooden counterpart against the warlord's barely contained fury.

The room beyond was the largest by far, lit by a single bare bulb dangling from a decrepit fixture. There were a few measly sticks of furniture scattered around and a small desk with what appeared to be an antique computer complete with dot matrix printer. An old slightly rusty pot-bellied stove hugged one corner and what might have been the man's breakfast sizzled in a cast iron skillet. The room smelled of smoke and grease, dust and, judging by the dark stains from the boarded up window, mold. Not an altogether pleasant combination to say the least.

Jack remained in the doorway. He could not see the little man cowering in the farthest corner of the room. Chase blocked his view and it was, perhaps, for the best that he could not see the fury in the warlord's eyes.

“Who are you?” was growled in a low threatening voice, Chase somehow managing to maintain control.

There was a long stretch of silence before a somewhat timid sounding reply. “I . . I don't have to tell you anything! He . . he said . . .”

“Who said?” there was no doubt of the venom in that question. When an answer was not immediately forthcoming, Chase took a step forward. “Who. Said?!” sharp, staccato, filled with growing impatience and rage.

“M . . my b . . boss,” was finally stuttered into the silence. Jack could practically smell the fear in the air.

“Name!” Chase demanded, his voice beginning to echo oddly, no longer able to fully suppress the duality of his nature.

He took another menacing step forward when he was not immediately answered. “NAME!” he roared.

“I . . I don't know!” the man finally shrieked, “just turned up out of the blue and said he would make it worth my while . . .”

 _Idiot,_ Jack thought to himself, tuning out the man's voice to focus his attention on the room. There was little if anything of interest. The only electronic device appeared to be the antiquated computer. It was clearly evident that he was nothing more than an ill informed grunt doing Bean's dirty work. He wondered if the man had been in league with the assassin. Had he been the one to extract the poison or were there more people to track down? He shook his head after a moment then winced as the man's suddenly shrill voice cut through his thoughts, worse than some of his own high pitched screams. Obviously he didn't know who or what he was dealing with and threatening Chase sealed his fate.

“Touch me and the entire world will know your secret!” the strange little man shouted as he attempted to back further into the corner and away from the enraged warlord.

“My secret,” Chase laughed wickedly, what little remained of his patience and self-control evaporating in an instant, “and which would that be? That I am evil?” he sneered stalking closer. “That I am Heylin and magic bows to my will?” his clenched fists crackled with visible power. “Perhaps you refer to my centuries of existence, or my immortality?” he snarled narrowing his eyes, the pupils angry slits. “Or perhaps you are referring,” the shift was instantaneous, “ to ME!” the dragon growled lowly, locking its eyes on its prey.

Jack squeaked and hurriedly left the room. Some things were better unseen—and unheard he realized, covering his ears belatedly. The scream would haunt him for days.

  


“Nothing,” Jack said with grim satisfaction, carefully ignoring the pile of furniture and mess in the corner.

“An empty threat,” Chase muttered.

“Apparently,” Jack grumbled, wiping the hard-drive and reformatting it several times. After jury rigging a connection, he had copied the entire thing to his phone and would sift through it again, but, there was simply nothing to be found.

The rug in the outer room had concealed a trap door and vault beneath the floor. It had yielded up some ancient scrolls and a stack of journals in precise penmanship relating all the man had known and discovered about Chase. There were photos of the warlord, mostly of him flying or levitating in meditation, but none of magic or transformation. Jack even swept the house twice but turned up nothing electronic beyond the very ancient computer.

The little cabin was in a remote area, far from civilization. It was old and a bit ramshackle in great need of repairs. A generator supplied electricity and to Jack's disgust and, honestly, relief, his phone received no signal. He would run an online trace once they were back at the fortress, but he was certain the little man was clueless.

Clouds surged overhead, angry and dark as they stepped into the meadow. Chase's eyes blazed with still contained fury but he glanced at Jack questioningly, allowing his apprentice a say in matter.

He shrugged, “Burn it.”

Chase smirked, “An excellent idea.”

Lightening crackled and Jack let out a small squeak, hiding behind the warlord. Heylin magic swirled around the pair as Chase teleported them back to the citadel. The last image emblazoned upon Jack's retinas—a tremendous bolt of lightening crashing into the fuel tanks beside the generator and an earthshaking explosion.

  


“A pawn,” Chase growled the instant they reappeared in the library. He was already placing the scrolls on shelves for safekeeping but paused over one that seemed familiar and suddenly growled, it was from the temple.

Jack flopped in a chair, “Bean.”

“Yes, so it would seem and the Rio Reverso is not the only thing he took from the monks.”

Jack noticed the scroll he held, “Is that?”

“The Xiaolin's formula for deathlily poison. It is obvious that he had an active hand in this,” Chase muttered, placing the scroll on the highest shelf. “Unless one is familiar with the Shen Gong Wu, the Rio Reverso would have been useless in the hands of the human.” He paused, an odd thought occurring to the warlord, _not just the strange little man, ANY normal mortal human. The monks surely were not and Jack—who had opened Wuya's prison and handled Dashi's toys so easily . . ._ He glanced at the boy remembering the welt on Jack's wrist that had taken days to heal. The flesh still marked by a faint but fading scar. _Curious._

“I am sure the news of my continued existence will cause Bean unending frustration,” an evil smirk momentarily graced his lips. “Unfortunately, you are now associated with me. I had hoped to keep your apprenticeship a secret for a while yet.”

Jack snorted, a hint of his old self returning. “I'm surprised the monks haven't figured it out. I know they've broken into the Lair several times since I moved in.”

“They are no more than children,” Chase waved dismissively.

“Maybe, but, maybe they don't really believe. I mean, maybe Bean still isn't certain yet either.”

Chase gave him an inquiring look, finding his own comfortable chair near the fireplace. Jack seemed a bit more relaxed, the sense of almost frantic anger bubbling just below the surface had vanished.

“I've done this apprentice thing before,” he reminded, it had been a much less pleasant experience.

“Perhaps, but now we must be more vigilant. He will find a way to use this to his advantage.”

“But why all the theatrics surrounding the poison? I mean an assassin and an attempt at . . . what? Blackmail?” Jack asked fishing around in a pocket for the Rio Reverso.

“A distraction, a diversion, a dead end to lead suspicion away from him. Manipulating things to his own ends. Had the poison actually worked, one less thorn in his side. Whether it was a direct attempt on my life or merely a part of some more far reaching plan, I cannot say,” Chase muttered, slowly, thinking. “But he now knows that you were at least assisting me. He most likely had not anticipated that I would not be alone and your glimpsing the Ying-Ying bird unintentional. It witnessed my reaction to the gun. Bean is not a stupid creature. We must now await his next move.”

Jack chewed his lip, slowly turning the Wu over in his hands. He tossed it onto Chase's slightly cluttered desk, disgusted that he had once idolized the nasty creature. His thoughts returning to the poison again, nagging at him

“I read that book at least a dozen times. I went back over the chemical analysis of the poison, there were no contaminants, it was a pure sample,” he shook his head slowly, “I . . . I don't . . . Chase . . . how . . . why are you not . . . ” but he found he simply could not finish his sentence.

The warlord stared at Jack a moment, sizing up his apprentice. Two weeks ago he would not have dared speak so openly, questioned him nor offered his opinion. It seemed the attack had given him a greater confidence in himself. Sparked a new level of maturity that Jack, until now, had been lacking. And most importantly, he had proven himself in both terms of loyalty and trust.

“Honestly, I do not know,” he paused, deciding he liked the more confident Jack Spicer, “perhaps the answer will be revealed in time.”

Jack shook his head, “You said that before.”

Chase shrugged, his eyes drawn to the goban awaiting the continuance of their game. “Sometimes it is difficult to see the endgame, or predict the outcome of a single move laid out against a much larger plan. The intention and the result often two different things though every contingency taken into account. Sometimes, what we assume is not the actual reality nor the consequences that which we expect.”

It sounded rather evasive and did not truly answer his question. Jack wondered if Chase was being purposefully vague and decided he didn't care. Thinking about it made his head hurt. The warlord . . . _Chase_ , was alive and that was really all that mattered.

Too many things had happened over the course of a few short days, things he would need to think on, but much later. Now he needed to relax and he idly wondered how long it would take to restore his lab to some semblance of order. Strangely enough, staring down the barrels of that shotgun had given him some interesting ideas. He considered going down to the lab, cleaning, perhaps sketching out some designs, but in the end, loath to move, decided to do all that later as well.

Both master and apprentice stared into the lazily burning fireplace, lost in their own thoughts, each aware that the machinations of one Hannibal Bean had forged something new between them. Something as yet intangible and only glimpsed in passing yet leaving them oddly at peace. The room descended into a comfortable silence, broken only by the crackling fire.

 

 


End file.
